


Sharps

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Disturbing Themes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman knows everything that happens in Gotham.  Jason only knows most of it.  (AU. way back in the day.  Jason's . . . not dead.  Roy's a junkie.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharps

There aren't supposed to be other capes in Gotham. Jason knows what the other capes look like, though, because Bruce knows. Quick, visual computer files that Bruce made for him, easier to remember than the text-heavy stuff Bruce reads, because Jason doesn't have that kind of a memory. But his brain flags stuff, and he can go down by process of elimination. There are only so many capes that age. Only one of them has red hair.

 

Speedy isn't supposed to be anywhere near here.

 

Not in uniform and not in street clothes. Looks like he's been in those for days, like he crawled up from somewhere even stickier than a Gotham alley. Three days down and two days dead and hugging himself like he's been cold all his life.

 

Jason remembers guys looking like that: like they never ate and couldn't remember how to eat and they were always hungry. He remembers the scars on them.

 

Addiction isn't mentioned in the file. He's kind of surprised Bruce didn't share this with him. It doesn't really cross his mind that Bruce might not know.

 

So he follows. Skinny scared archer looking for something other than food moves down the blocks looking for. Yeah. Dealer. Jason knows who sells what down here. He could take them down every night and new ones would pop up in the morning. Bruce told him it's easier to cut the supply off at the wrist than to try to break all its fingers.

 

In the file pictures, Speedy didn't look this thin. Jason dropped weight the last time he got hurt, but nothing like this. And when he dropped five pounds, Bruce noticed. Alfred noticed. He found protein bars in his school lunch and extra sandwiches lying around and there was way more training, like he could make it all back in muscle within a week. What the *fuck* is Green Arrow doing that he doesn't notice this?

 

Hands. Begging, trading, and yeah, maybe if Speedy comes all the way to Gotham for smack it's possible Arrow'd just think he was putting in too many miles. For a week or a month. Maybe.

 

Lots of old buildings down here. He waits until Speedy picks one. Comes in from the roof, listening for the feet coming up from the ground. Meet him in the middle.

 

He should call it in to Bruce, really.

 

Very soon.

 

If he tried anything like this, ever, they'd never find his body. He doesn't think Bruce would *kill* him, actually, but he'd never let him out again. Lock him up in the Cave and Alfred would come down to bring him sandwiches and methadone, and he's look so *disappointed* . . .

 

The needle's beautiful. Almost surgical, packed up in a box that reminds him of WayneTech's field medical kits. Dirty flecks on it, though. Alcohol wipe slides over the whole mechanism, like that's really gonna help.

 

The flame's not from a lighter, either. That is *definitely* WayneTech, and if Bruce doesn't *know* you could use it for that --

 

Bruce knows.

 

Super Action Hero field kit: surgical dressing, tourniquet, syringe for adrenaline and endorphin hits, mini-torch. He's pretty sure the spoon's improvised. Old silver, actually. It has that faint yellowish-black edge to it.

 

It's a good moment for the batarang to hit the needle. He learned his sense of drama from Bruce; it's the moment Bruce would pick. Probably.

 

You can probably hear Speedy screaming on the roof.

 

Eyes like he thinks Bruce is going to drop down out of the dark and then he's going to *die*. Possibly without any help from Bruce. Just keel over and die from the Bat-effect. The Arrows aren't even metahumans, and they don't have the same aura that Bruce does. It's right there in the files that pulling the whole Bat thing gives them the creeps. Combine that with smack-jitters and there's no way in hell Speedy's gonna hit Jason back.

 

Because, "Dude, seriously. What the *fuck*?"

 

"Oh. Shit."

 

He doesn't have Bruce's ability to loom. He needs more black in his costume for that to work. And he doesn't want to wait.

 

Hits him once, hard, in the shoulder. Numb the arm, knock him back. Kick the medkit away into the dark to a spot where he definitely knows where it is and where Speedy can't reach it.

 

Bruce's files say Roy Harper's good. He's high-strung and touchy and not as strong as Jason is.

 

Jason only has to kick him once.

 

On the floor, Roy does a half-decent impression of the Arrow fuck-you-where-the-hell-are-my-pants. Like he's trying not to whimper. They've got enough light for Jason to see how many of Roy's bones are showing.

 

"You had fucking better be undercover."

 

Beat. "Yeah. Absolutely."

 

"Like hell."

 

Roy's older, taller, and in a lot of pain right now. Jason can drag him along pretty easily. Upstairs, where they can maybe have this conversation away from the people sleeping it off in corners. Snag the kit on the way by, because the only thing worse than giving it back to Speedy is letting anybody else have it.

 

Blood transfer. Sharps.

 

He can hear Bruce listing off the diseases Speedy's picked up by now.

 

Street light farther up; they're level with one of the neighbourhood's functioning lamps. "You suck at lying."

 

"You *interrupted* me." Nasty, snippy tone that makes Jason grin. Just about the time a fist catches him in the mouth.

 

Not hard enough to make him bleed but he *really* should have seen that coming. Even if Speedy does train with Nightwing there's no way anybody in this condition should be able to hit him.

 

Knock him down and sit on him. That'll work.

 

The body under him heaves for a few seconds. Gives up when Jason brings more of his weight down on his hands and lets the bones in Harper's wrists grind a bit.

 

Fat's gone. Muscle's going. He wonders if the guy could draw a bow at this point without breaking his own hand.

 

Jason says, "I should send you back to him."

 

"You won't find him. *I* can't find him."

 

It explains a lot. Bruce's file on Green Arrow uses the word "unreliable" more than once.

 

It means he's going to have to take Speedy to Batman.

 

"Ohhhhh no." Body-snap. Jason pushes down on the wrists harder. "You are *not*. Fucking. Taking me to Batman."

 

"You don't get to argue with me. I'm the guy who's sitting on you." Grind. Skinny body under him's shaking hard. He wonders how long it's been since Harper last shot up. The part of his head where Bruce talks to him sometimes suggests he stay here, sitting on Harper, until he starts to sweat, and find out that way.

 

Just. Sit back.

 

Two minutes before Harper goes slack and starts to shake. And somewhere in him Jason knows the guy's gonna shoot up tonight, one way or another. Even if Jason took him back to the Cave and chained him to the wall, sooner or later the screaming'd get to him, and he's not totally sure they have methadone in stock.

 

He can picture Bruce's face when he comes in to find Jason with a needle in Roy Harper's arm.

 

The need doesn't go *away*. He can't make it.

 

He can probably make Harper go away, though. Drag him out to the limits of Gotham and give him a kick in the direction of Star City. Kick him a few extra times, just to make the point that you do *not* come to *Gotham* to *shoot up*.

 

Why the fuck *do* you come to Gotham to shoot up? Bruce knows *everything*.

 

And just like that. "Hell, you wanted him to find you. Why should you whine if I take you to him?"

 

Wide eyes. "What? No!"

 

"Capes don't come here except to find Batman."

 

"I just. Needed."

 

"I bet." Jason stands up and picks Harper up by his shirt collar. "Come on." Up the stairs. Out on the roof. There are sharps out here, too. Maybe Harper'll get lucky and stick himself with one when he hits his knees.

 

Gonna give himself fucking *lockjaw*.

 

Jason says, "You wanted him to find you." Pushes Harper down. "Make a scene. He'll find you."

 

Harper's shaking. He's been desperate for one thing or another for days. Weeks, maybe. Jason should fuck him, really. Wring him out enough that he won't remember why he came to Gotham until he's halfway back to Star City.

 

If Bruce doesn't show up, it's a plan.

 

Eyes. Skinny face and dirty brown/red hair and the hands on Jason's hips have broken nails. He can feel them clutching through the armour.

 

Harper licks his thigh. Opens his mouth and sucks the bare skin there.

 

Greasy-soft hair in Jason's fingers. When the fingers push him back against the roof's ledge, he goes. Grips the hair while Harper's fingers get the catches on his costume loose and unhook the belt. It means something that he knows how to open it. He can ask Dick about that later. Never.

 

Lick on his belly in under his shirt and then Harper takes Jason's cock in his mouth and sucks him. Right in, no teasing or soft stuff. Pull it up against the roof of his mouth and hoover like he's working under a time limit.

 

Batman arrives in thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.

 

He knows there's a joke with the capes that as soon as someone messes with the Robin suit, a buzzer goes off in Batman's head. He's not sure they know it's true.

 

Tongue on the underside of his cock. Hands on his hips. Hot spit turns cold on his cock every time Harper pulls back. Harper's eyes are screwed shut, but he isn't shaking anymore.

 

He's really good at this.

 

Mouth tongue *hands* on Jason's balls and he can't remember the last time anybody sucked him like this. This well or even just with this kind of focus. Nothing left of Roy Harper but his mouth on Jason Todd's cock. Breathe through his nose and dissolve.

 

Wet hot fucking amazing.

 

Jason clamps his fingers down in Speedy's hair and jerks. Forward, back, forward. Down Speedy's throat hard enough to make him start and open his eyes. Brown bloodshot scared guy who's supposed to be older than Jason and doesn't look it and doesn't stop *sucking*

 

and *pulls*

 

and Jason comes in his mouth. Down his throat. He can feel red hair coming loose in his fingers.

 

Harper pulls off and looks up at him all eyes and misery. Jason wonders how much like that he'd look if Bruce just walked away from him one day and left him to take care of Gotham on his own.

 

He has Alfred. Jason could last at least a day. Maybe a day and a half.

 

He makes a point of not noticing Harper's crying. It's not the kind of thing he'd want anybody to notice about him.

 

Bruce is there, of course. Crouched on the ledge opposite them and watching. Harper's between them, scraggly hair blocking Jason's bare skin from Bruce's eyes. Probably.

 

Jason eases Speedy back and pulls his costume closed. Straightens up with a hand still on the guy's head. Looks at Bruce.

 

Waits for him to say something.


End file.
